


Wanting To Forget

by RileyRiot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Death, Heartbreak, M/M, Making Love, Pain, Sad, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyRiot/pseuds/RileyRiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing all the people he's ever loved Stiles just wanted something that would make him forget his pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanting To Forget

**Author's Note:**

> So this randomly came to me and I wrote it down just to past time. It's definitely not my favorite piece, but I don't hate it either. I just don't like to put these characters through things like this, but I wanted to see if I could do it.

 

It all started the day of Scott’s funeral. After not being able to sit in the McCall house and look at his best friend’s mother any longer, Stiles politely said his goodbyes. Literally, since Stiles had come to tell her the news crying was all the two of them did whenever they saw each other. They were both a reminder to the other of what they had lost and all they had left; the weight of those thoughts almost strangled Stiles at times. He knew as Scott’s friend he should stay longer and comfort her and tell her that everything would be all right, but he loved Melissa McCall too much to lie to her. Without Scott nothing would ever be all right again.

The pain didn’t leave him once he was free from the McCall house, it didn’t even ease up. If anything it had gotten worse, because there wasn’t any background noise or friends or neighbors to distract him. He was alone, well not completely. He had his thoughts, those horrible little reminders that Scott was dead and it was his fault. _Why did he have to save me?_ He’d asked himself that a thousand times if not more since that day. Why did Scott always have to be the hero and Stiles always have to be the victim? Stiles hated it and would trade places with Scott in the split second, no questions asked. Not because he wanted to be the one to save the day, but because for once he wanted to be the one to save his friend– his brother.

Stiles wandered the streets of Beacon Hills replaying everything that had happened over in his head until he could barely see where he was going because his eyes were once again filled with tears. He didn’t want to go home, but it wasn’t like he could go to Derek’s, he’d bailed on Stiles and whatever they had the day after Scott was killed. Part of Stiles understood why Derek had done it. After all it was Peter that killed Scott and even though Derek had taken care of Peter after that it was still a heavy burden for Derek to carry, but without Derek or Scott, Stiles had nowhere else to go. Plus two cars had almost hit him while he was out walking, due to lack of paying attention. Perhaps, he should’ve kept it up, if he died at least he would be with the people he loved. He would be with Scott. He quickly reminded himself that he couldn’t do that to Melissa; he was her last link to Scott even if he was a pitiful excuse for one.

Once he got home he went straight up to his room. For a while he paced his bedroom floor, still thinking about his epic failures. He failed both his parents and Scott and it was quite obvious he hadn’t been worth a second glance to Derek and that’s why he’d left. He was a pathetic failure and that’s why they’d all left him. He deserved to be alone. Even though he knew it was the truth he still didn’t want to think about it anymore. He’d been plagued with these thoughts for years. First after his mother died, then a year ago when he lost his dad, but both those times Scott had been there to help him pick up the pieces, now he had no one and he was sick of trying to pick up the pieces.

Before Derek had even been around to keep Stiles from falling of the deep end after the Sheriff was killed, stopping by to check on him when Scott couldn’t, forcing him to get out the house and participate in life again, rushing over to hold him after a nightmare when Stiles had felt too guilty to call Scott–again. Like an idiot Stiles had started to think Derek actually cared about him. He let out a bitter laugh at his stupidity and then began to cry again. There was so much pain and hurt inside of him he thought he’d died if he couldn’t make it go away. He needed to forget it all, even if it was just for a little while. Alcohol would probably only make things worse. He knew the only thing that would help was something he’d sworn to Scott he’d never do again.

Stiles immediately yanked out the drawer from his nightstand and found the small, shiny piece of metal he’d taped to the back of it a year ago. Stiles had stopped cutting when he was fourteen and Scott had found out, but had considered starting again when his dad died. Despite all the supernatural shit they battled on daily basis his pop had ended up being killed by a petty bank robber. After his dad’s funeral Stiles had ducked into the bathroom to get away from everyone and while he was in there he’d found his father’s razor. It was a cheap plastic little thing, but the idea that his father would never be able to use it again made him so angry. Stiles quickly dismantled it. Once the blade was free he shoved up the sleeve to his dress shirt and held it over the faded scares on his forearm, but just before he could slice through his skin there was a knock on the door. It was Scott. Stiles slipped the blade into his pocket before his friend could catch him with it. Despite being filled with guilt over being so close to breaking a promise to Scott, that night Stiles taped the little razor to the back of the drawer in case he ever needed it.

With Scott gone Stiles definitely needed it. He sat down on his bed and shoved up his sleeve and held the razor over his forearm just like he had before. This time there was no knock on the door to stop him and the realization that there never would be again made his decision to go through with it a lot easier. The hot burning sensation that filled him as the blade sliced through his flesh felt new and familiar all at the same time. His toes curled from the pain as he watched small, red bubbles began to appear in a line across his arm. When the blood began to run down the side of his arm he made another cut, just a few inches beneath the first. He repeated this process until his arm looked like a bloody spider web and his mind was too focused on the physical pain to concentrate on the mental.

For months whenever the emotional pain became too much for Stiles he’d come home and cut himself. Once, when the razor had become too dull to use and he’d freaked out and had gone to the garage and gotten one of his dad’s old hunting knives and taken it up the inside of his thigh. There had been so much blood that he had been afraid he’d have to go to the hospital and Melissa would find out. However, he was able to pull off a half-ass job of patching himself up after doing some research. After that Stiles didn’t cut again for a while, but then Scott’s birthday came and after the saddest dinner of all time with Mama McCall he went home and took out a new razor. He held it in shaking fingers and looked down and his horribly scarred arm thoroughly blurry eyes and whispered “happy birthday” to Scott.

“What the fuck are you doing?” an infuriated growl came from Stiles’ bedroom door.

Stiles looked up to see Derek stalking towards him. Before he could say anything Derek had snatched the blade from him with one hand and yanked him up by his t-shirt with the other.

“I…I…” Stiles stammered. What could he say? Derek wouldn’t understand. Plus it wasn’t like he owned him an explanation.

“You what, Stiles? Were you trying to kill yourself?” Derek dropped the blade and yanked on Stiles’ arm to see the damage.

“No…I…” Stiles continued to stutter.

“Christ, how long have you been doing this?” Derek sounded disgusted as he looked at Stile’s arm.

“It’s none of your goddamn business.” Stiles’ struggled to get out of Derek grasps to no avail. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Melissa called me and said she was worried about you; she asked me to check on you, so it is my goddamn business.” Derek shoved Stiles down on to the bed.

“I don’t need you checking on me. I’m fine,” Stiles mumbled.

“Like Hell you are. Look at what you’ve been doing to yourself.” Derek gestured to Stiles’ arm.

Stiles shrugged. “We all cope differently…now get the fuck out of my house,” Stiles screamed as he shot up from the bed and began to shove his hands into Derek’s chest.

Stiles body was weak because of the cutting, but even if he hadn’t been doing that he was still no match for Derek. Derek gripped on to both of Stiles’ arms and pinned them to his side.

“Tell me why, Stiles? Do you think Scott or you dad would want you doing this?”

Derek’s words hit Stiles harder than any punch. He was fuming as he glared up at Derek. How dare he come in to Stiles’ home and try to guilt trip him after everything that had happened, after he’d left?

“You want to know why? My dad and Scott are dead and I need to forget that…even if it’s just for a few fucking minutes. I need this.” Stiles could feel tears started to prickle at his eyes again.

“No you don’t,” Derek’s voice was softer when he spoke even though he hadn’t loosened his grip on Stiles’ arms.

“I do. Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me; my mom, my dad, Scott, even you… That,” Stiles gestured to the blade on the floor, “is all I have left…”

Stiles couldn’t make out what Derek said in response he just began to mumble to himself, “Why does everyone leave me?” as he repeated the question he began to cry harder, unable to look at Derek it such a pathetic and vulnerable state.

Derek sighed and slowly moved his hands from Stiles’ arms up and around his shoulders. He pulled Stiles in and held him while he came undone and sobbed into his chest.

“Stiles, I know how you feel. I’ve lost my entire family too, but you have to know that none of those people wanted to leave you, especially not me. I thought giving you space would help you. God, I was so fucking stupid.” Derek squeezed Stiles tighter. “But Stiles you have to believe me, you have more than fucking razorblade here for you…I’m…I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.” Derek began to softly rubbed Stiles’ back.

Stiles looked up at Derek through sore eyes and saw the sincerity in his face.

“I need you to help me forget,” Stiles whispered up at him.

“How? I can’t let you hurt yourself anymore. I won’t,” Derek’s voice was stern and unyielding.

Stiles didn’t know how to say what he wanted, so he leaned up some and stroked Derek’s beard with nervous fingers before brushing his lips against the always-intimidating werewolf. The sensation that coursed through him at the contact was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Derek abruptly pulled away.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” The look on Derek’s face could only be described as terrified.

The two had never done more than spoon so for Stiles to actually kiss Derek was a big step for both of them, but Stiles couldn’t worry about that. He didn’t want to worry about anything anymore that night.

“Derek, I need to forget and you said you’d help me. Make me forget. Make me feel something other than pain,” Stiles leaned in and kissed Derek again, “It’s been so long since I felt anything else…please, Derek, do this for me,” Stiles begged with no shame.

Derek groaned as Stiles lips continued to caress his, but he didn’t pull away that time. In fact he reached out and pulled Stiles back into his arms and began to kiss him back more passionately. After what seemed like forever tongues began to seek out each other and moans escaped both their lips. Stiles was surprised that Derek knew how to make sounds other than growling. They kissed until they were out of breath and had no choice but to pull apart for air.

“Stiles, I will do this, but you have to promise me that you won’t hurt yourself ever again,” Derek said as he leaned his forehead down on to Stiles’ and heaved choppy breaths onto Stiles’ face.

Stiles nodded even though he wasn’t really sure of what he was agreeing to. He just wanted to forget and feel something other than heartache and loneliness and if he couldn’t use the razor to do it than Derek’s body would have to suffice.

“Lay down,” Derek instructed.

Stiles did as he was told. He was practically trembling as he scooted over to the other side of the bed. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Derek peeled off his t-shirt and climbed in to lie beside him. Stiles’ breath hitched as Derek cupped his jaw in one hand and began to kiss him again. They got back to that desperate, breathless place in no time. Eventually Derek had removed Stiles t-shirt and was on top of him, kissing and nibbling on his lip. Stiles moaned even louder when Derek moved his lips lower and began to suck on his nipples. It was weird to say but it felt so good to _feel good_.

Stiles could feel himself getting hard between their bodies and he wanted to touch himself, but couldn’t reach with Derek lying on top of him. However, Derek could and that’s what he did. Stiles cried out as a large hand palmed him through his jeans. Derek was being so gentle with him and part of Stiles loved it, but another part of him hated it and wanted Derek to be rougher. Even though Stiles had wanted to escape the pain there was still part of him that craved its familiarity. He roughly began to buck his hips up into Derek’s hand, hoping to encourage the other man to take the hint. Nevertheless, Derek continued his gentle massaging.

Just when Stiles thought he would lose his mind, Derek reached up and popped the button on Stiles’ jeans and slid down his zipper. Stiles stopped breathing as he watched Derek slide down his jeans and boxers, exposing Stiles erection to him. Derek groaned and licked his lips, but then rage began to boil in his eyes as he caught a glimpse of the massive scar on Stiles’ thigh.

“Swear it Stiles. Swear that you’ll never do anything like this again.” Derek traced the scar with his fingertips as pain replaced the anger in his eyes.

Stiles felt ugly as he looked at the scar. He couldn’t believe Derek was willing to be with someone so fucked up.

“Swear it to me, right now, Stiles or I’m going to pull your clothes back on, shove you into that jeep and take you to the hospital. If I can’t help you I won’t stop until I’ve found someone that can.”

Derek’s words brought tears back to Stiles’ eyes. Derek quickly crawled back up his body and kissed each tear away.

“I’m so sorry I left you Stiles, but I really do care about you and I will do anything to help you get through this. So swear to me you’re done with this.” Derek hovered over Stiles, waiting for a response.

Stiles nodded in agreement.

“I need to hear you say it,” Derek demanded.

It took forever but eventually Stiles found his voice, “I swear I won’t hurt myself again…now please…” Stiles ground his fully exposed erection against Derek’s denim clad bulge in plea.

Derek kissed his lips once more before working his way back down Stiles’ body, making sure to take extra care when reached the scars on Stiles’ arm and thigh. Eventually, Derek moved his incredible mouth to wear Stiles wanted it most. At first Derek only licked and suckled on the head of Stiles’ cock, but as Stiles grew harder and moaned for him more he began to take more and more of Stiles into his mouth. The pleasure was so intense that Stiles couldn’t even keep his eyes open. It wasn’t long before Stiles was close, but before he could reach Nirvana he told Derek to stop.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked in a panic.

“I want…”

Stiles couldn’t say it, but he wanted to feel Derek inside of him. He wanted to feel connected to someone living and he knew that he needed more than a blowjob to do that. After a moment of confusion Derek seemed to get the idea.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to,” Derek reassured him

“I want to.”

Derek nodded in response before getting up off the bed and removing the rest of his clothes. Stiles whimpered at the sight of Derek’s naked body. How was it possible for someone so perfect to want someone so broken? Stiles forced that thought from his mind as Derek got back on the bed and settled between Stiles’ still spread legs. Derek kissed both of Stiles’ hips and thighs before move to his center to lick and suck on his highly sensitive testicles, but Derek didn’t stop there he slowly slid his tongue down lower and ran it around Stiles’ tight opening. Stiles was more baffled and more aroused than he’d ever been in his entire life by the feeling of Derek’s tongue caressing him in such an intimate place.

Eventually, fingers joined Derek’s tongue in his exploration of Stiles’ backdoor. It hurt a little when Derek began to stretch him, but he knew it was something that needed to be done if they were going to be able to take things farther. When he winced one too many times Derek took Stiles’ slightly softer erection back into his mouth. Derek took his time sucking, stroking, and fingering Stiles, getting him back to that desperate and needy place before moving back up his body. Once there Derek leaned down and kissed Stiles’ shoulder.

“Say stop at anytime and I will.”

Stiles nodded and wrapped his arms around Derek’s back. The tip of Derek’s erection was brushing against Stiles’ lower cheeks but he still made not attempt to put it in until Stiles told him it was okay. Derek sat back up and coated himself and Stiles’ opening with as much saliva as he could produce before pressing the head against Stiles’ opening. After first it hurt like Hell, worse than the cutting even and Stiles’ body was adamant that it did not want this to happen, but with the patience of someone divine Derek slowly got Stiles’ to accept more and more of him. They both gasped once they were fully connected. Once again Derek waited for Stiles to give the go ahead before moving.

Stiles wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually the strokes began to feel amazing and Stiles erection was back with a vengeance. Derek reached out and stroked him with the same perfect, slow rhythm he was thrusting into him with. For the first time in a long time Stiles wanted to cry for reason that had to do with something other than pain. Derek stopped the second the first tear fell from Stiles’ eyes.

“Did I hurt you? We can stop.”

Derek move to pull out of him but Stiles stopped him.

“You didn’t hurt me. Keep going. I’m fine. I promise.”

Derek looked unsure at first, but after Stiles leaned up and kissed him again he seemed to relax and get back into the moment. The way Derek moved and felt inside of him felt right and Stiles never wanted it to end, but eventually his body couldn’t take anymore and he started come. He felt himself clinch around Derek just moments before his insides were being coated by Derek’s own release. Stiles assumed in order not to crush him Derek rolled over and pulled Stiles on top of him. The two lay there, heaving and gasping as they came down from their orgasms and Derek soften and slipped from Stiles’ body, but even that Derek held Stiles to his chest until they fell asleep.

The next morning Derek convinced Stiles to see someone about what he was going through and even promised to go with him if he wanted him to. It took months for Stiles to get back to a place where he didn’t think about hurting himself to escape his pain, but he was sure it would’ve taken longer if he hadn’t had Derek and Melissa there to help him through it. He eventually realized he hadn’t needed Derek to help him forget, but to help him remember that he was still capable of feeling something other than pain.


End file.
